


The First Time

by Loveforthestory



Category: Revolution (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-19 17:44:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveforthestory/pseuds/Loveforthestory
Summary: 'She's tired of the war she has fought for so long. She's tired of all the loss and all the people that had left her behind.So when the war had ended she had been the one who had left.She had ignored her mother's desperate plea to stay. She had ignored Miles talking her into staying. She had tried to ignore what was hiding in Monroe's eyes and deep voice when he had told her to take care of herself, right before she had left.Her hunting skills and her Matheson stubbornness have been her only companions.'A story about unexpected moments, deep in the heart of autumn.





	1. Part One

When she walks into the small town, time has moved her deep into autumn and the first frost of the year has already touched the ground beneath her boots. The pale orange sun is slowly setting. The town looks friendly. The people on the streets greet her with a polite smile while she lets her intuition guide her to the nearest bar.

Charlie frowns while she looks up at the sky. Rain on its way is filling the sky while the last daylight covers the town. She keeps on walking, asking herself how it's possible that it's autumn again.

She has left everything behind.

She has walked from the end of the war to this autumn day.

She is tired. She's tired of having to deal with a mother who can barely deal with her own destructive behavior. She is tired of taking care of everybody but herself. She's tired because of the fall out of previously made decisions made by the people she carries with her every day. She's tired of people not telling her the whole truth. She is tired because of the past, because of all the things that had to be done and all the things she didn't want to do.

She's tired of the war that she has fought for so long. She's tired of all the loss and all the people that had left her behind.

So when the war had ended  _she_  had been the one who had left.

She had ignored her mother's desperate plea to stay. She had ignored Miles talking her into staying. She had tried to ignore what was hiding in Monroe's eyes and deep voice when he had told her to take care of herself, right before she had left.

Her hunting skills and her Matheson stubbornness have been her only companions. It has been her and the road while her intuition has taken her back north again, because somehow, that feels like home.

One lonely long night, when she had been sitting close to a fire when it had been her and the night sky, she had realized that a part of herself had finally understood a part of Monroe and his need to burn the past and fill his heart with steel control. Maybe this is her, changing into someone and something she never thought she could be. Anonymous. Alone. Stronger. Harder. Less of her, more of the scars she carries on her skin and inside of her and the person she never wanted to be.

Months of walking and taking small jobs along the way to make sure she could survive,  _but never staying somewhere too long_ , had turned into watching the landscape change around her. She keeps on going while the seasons keep on changing. But she feels restless. It's still not enough. She feels hungry for something she cannot name or seem to find.

So she has kept on walking until the road took her to a small town waiting for her on the horizon earlier this afternoon.

Welcoming warmth and the buzz of friendly voices meet her when she walks into the local bar. When she walks to the bar to order her drink, it happens. Just for one moment, wide shoulders appear in the middle of the crowd, shoulders with so much strength that they remind her of the only man in her life that caused a storm inside of her that's so big, she was never able to let it calm down. Remembering him the way she does now floods her heart. The sudden shock of the moment is throwing her off balance. It makes something ache inside of her without her being able to stop it. She almost loses herself into that raw aching yearning sensation that is so intense that it hurts before a guy carrying too many glasses of beer crosses her path. The shoulders disappear into the buzz of the voices and the scent of smoke, candles and booze and she's back in a bar, far from everything she has left behind.

It's a cruel trick, she tells herself, it's a cruel game her mind plays with her heart. He can't be here. She is hundreds of miles and years away from Willoughby and her old life.  _It's. not .him_.

She walks to the bar. She sits down. She orders her drink. Her whole body is filled with her  _don't fuck with me_  Matheson attitude she has perfected over the years to keep everybody at a distance.

It works. Until she feels a shift on her right. And then, in one seemingly never-ending moment she is about to tell the guy on her right to go to hell before her whole body floods with knowing she knows him.

And when she looks up, he is there.  _All of him_. Smug ego, deep eyes, wide shoulders and that dark look in his eyes. Her lips start to form his name with a will on their own, a name she has not spoken for so long now. And name that has been on her mind even after all the seasons has changed and all the miles she has walked.

But before she can speak, he does.

'Jimmy…' his voice is rough, deep and filled with everything she used to find in his eyes.

She blinks, realizing how much she remembers and missed hearing that voice all at the same time. It makes her freeze and warm up inside at the same time. Her mind automatically moves towards survival mode, forgetting her own name when he uses the name he uses to let the world forget who he is.

'Sarah..' His eyes pierce through hers, just like he has always done and she lets it happen. She doesn't look away because he doesn't look away either. She has to fight a raw sob that almost crushes her heart. She can't believe he's here, sitting so close to her, close enough to almost touch.

Bass has to swallow away the world of pain that appears in her eyes. He can't believe she is fucking here. But she is. He realized it was her the moment she had walked inside. He had seen her before she had seen him. She looks like hell. She sounds tired. But in the middle of all that, something lights up when she looks straight at him, reminding him of days of the past, reminding him  _of her_. He knows she's far from home. And he knows she will never ever admit it, to anyone or to herself, _fucking Mathesons_ , but she is in trouble. He can tell by looking at her.

The raw confusion and something that appears in her eyes when she looks at him that is too close to something else that is killing him, make him want to shield her from the rest of the world. He can't fucking help himself. When it comes to her, that's how it always has been. He needs to get her out of here. Now.

'Come on…' His voice is deep and steady while he nods at her to follow him. It breaks his fucking heart that she forgets her drink, gets up and follows him.

They walk outside. It's getting dark. November wind starts to fill the streets while she looks so damn cold and he has to fight the urge to move his arm around her. He doesn't. But he does stay close to her.

Charlie falls into step beside him. And just like that, she is walking next to Monroe again. And there is one thing her mind, or heart, keeps on repeating over and over again. It's him and her,  _again._


	2. Chapter 2

When Bass starts to make a fire in his fireplace, he is aware of her standing behind him in his living room with every new log he adds to the fire. The warmth and light of the fire cast away the November cold and shadows inside his living room.

He curses, he has done this more times than he can remember with her close, but tonight, something is different. Those nights he had spent with her near a fire, feel like a lifetime ago. But at the same time, her being here make the memories of all those nights rush back to him.

Now she's suddenly here, an eager, deep and strangely yearning sensation fills his blood, something that he tries to push the hell away with her so damn close. But when it comes to her, he has never been good at outrunning what he feels for her.

He gets up and turns around. She is still standing in the middle of his living room and he doesn't know what the hell to do. He had ruled a whole Militia and conquered half the continent but right now, he doubts what to do or say next. She hasn't spoken on the short walk back to his place.

'Do you want me to run a bath for you?' he curses at himself again for sounding the way he does and for offering this to her. He knows she probably doesn't believe he has this inside of him and that she will probably mock him or question his motives, just like she had once done near a fire after he had saved her life.

But  _dammit_. He came from a loving home, he had sisters, he took care of Emma, of Shelly, he was married. He knows how to care. A deep tension rises inside of him before it reaches the muscles of his neck and his jaws. He pushes the memories of the past away.

But then, she looks up and finally, there is something inside of her eyes that reminds him of something human and real. Something finally shifts in her eyes when she looks up at him and it does more to him than he can put into her words.

Charlie processes his unexpected question.  _A bath._  A bath means warmth and comfort. When he asks her his question she realizes how much she needs and wants it. She nods slowly.

When Monroe fills the old bath tub in his bathroom, she looks around. His living room is small, but somehow, it suits him. His leather jacket is placed on one of his kitchen chairs. She slowly lets her fingers move over the black leather she still knows so well. The fabric makes contact with her skin and his scent of fight, leather and whiskey is suddenly close again.

There is something safe hiding between his four walls, but then again, her mind whispers… _it's him_ …it's him being close that makes you feel the way you do.

She stops herself right there.

She looks up when the heavy sound of Monroe's boots hitting the wooden floor of his living room fills the room again. He doesn't say a word when he looks at her but she knows what he is saying.  _He's here._

She slowly gets up before she walks to his bathroom. She closes the door behind her. She doesn't lock it, without truly thinking about the  _why._ She notices that he has lit a couple of candles, which are standing on a low wooden table close to the bath. The light is casting soft smooth shadows on the walls around her when she slowly starts to undress herself.

It's warm inside the room and the water looks inviting. When she lets herself slowly sink into the warm water, a sigh escapes her lips. She suddenly feels how tired she is. The pressure and warmth of the water are a gentle friendly wave of comfort while the water presses against her body, warming her skin. But then, there in his bath, something shifts inside of her. It's like being here pushes straight through her defenses. Her heart fills with a raw, soundless sob and a sudden realization of how long she held on to walking her road alone. She pushes her tears away but a couple of them win anyway. They move over her cheeks before they join the warm water in the bath.

She lets the warmth of the water surround her. And all the time she's safely inside the warm water, she is aware of the man sitting on the other side of the wall, waiting for her. 

~~~

When Charlie closes the door of his bathroom softly,  _but without locking it_ , Bass exhales sharply.  _Fuck._  He can't believe she's here. He knows he should not feel the way he does right the hell now, but she being here fills his entire chest with something that belongs to a lifetime before the blackout.

He had known it was her the moment he had turned around while he had been waiting for a new drink at the bar. She is older, she is different in a way that quietly breaks his damn heart, but at the same time, she is still her.

He still remembers the day Miles had told him she was going to leave. The war had been over, but the broken pieces of their lives were there, every single day.

_Bass is on his way to meet Miles. The night sky is filled with stars, the days are getting colder now autumn is here. He moves his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket. He fucking needs a drink. His brother is busy playing house with Rachel and he hates every single thing about it. But tonight, they are going to drink and forget about all that bullshit and the girlfriend from hell who has changed his brother for good. He has offered to meet Miles at his place. He has been trying to convince himself over and over again it has nothing to do with the possibility of seeing Charlie again at the Porter home, although now he is thinking about it he realizes she is rarely there anymore._

_The moment Miles walks outside Bass knows something is up. Miles walks off the steps of the porch of the home he is sharing with Rachel now while he walks over to Miles._

' _What's wrong?' A cold wave of needing to know and not wanting to know joins his next heartbeat while he looks at Miles. He knows this moron. He knows him better than he thinks he knows himself, even though Miles will always deny that. But he fucking does. Bass's throat feels dry. His heartbeat beats faster while he waits for Miles' answer._

' _Charlie…she's leaving.' Miles looks away with a deep misery in his eyes. 'She just told us tonight…'_

_Bass swallows. 'Wh….why….' he stammers, the raw why rolling of his lips while he tries to push everything he doesn't want to show his brother, away. The thought of her leaving is causing a storm of panic and disbelieve inside of him._

_Miles answers, he tells him how she needs her space, how he doesn't know what to do or how to help her. The powerlessness in Miles' eyes and voice is killing him. Bass listens to Miles talking about Charlie while a deafening drum moves through his ears. Because she…Charlie… she is leaving._

Bass remembers the look in Charlie's eyes on the day she had left. She had said goodbye to Aaron, to Rachel, her grandfather and Miles. And then she had surprised the hell out of him by turning around and walking towards him, by looking directly at him and saying everything with her eyes they could not say out loud. She had surprised him by letting him touch her. He had awkwardly moved his arms around her while she had let him embrace her. He remembers the way her body had felt against him. He had told her to take care of herself, his voice a hoarse warm version of himself he did not know was inside of him anymore. She had nodded before she had turned around.

Watching her walk away had been hell. After that, he had tried to live is life. But the truth was that he did not belong in Willoughby. His brother was changing and building a life with Rachel that reminded Bass too much about a life he should have had with Emma, with Shelly.

And in Texas, he would always be  _the_  Sebastian Monroe, the man who had helped win the war, but who would never be fully accepted. So, when summer had changed into autumn before winter would find them again, he had left too. He had said goodbye. He had shook Miles' hand, while they had both realized they would always be brothers, but never again the way the once were.

He had walked. He had picked fights to destroy things that could never be forgotten inside of him. He found an old familiar rhythm of fucking, fighting and drinking. He had taken jobs to stay alive. He had been alone. Sometimes, he had stayed with a woman, lying to himself and telling himself she was going to be enough, but he had never stayed too long. He had walked north, because somehow that had felt right.

Until on one early spring day, he had walked into this town. He had liked the pace, the fresh air, the woods surrounding it and the people living inside of it. He had stayed until a new autumn had found him and all of a sudden, she had walked into his local bar and back into his life.

And now he's here.  _She's here_  in his damn bath tub. He stares into the fire in front of him before he realizes how much he needs a drink. He walks to his kitchen and grabs a bottle of whiskey and, without thinking about it, he also grabs two glasses before he walks back to his couch.

When Charlie walks into his living room, the fire in the fireplace has warmed up the room. He's sitting on his couch and suddenly she is way too aware of her wearing his shirt while her bare legs are brushed by the warmth of the fire. Him leaving one of his shirts in his bathroom for her to wear was welcome. She had seen it after she had come out of the bath. It feels strangely comforting in a way she doesn't want or can't think about and weird at the same time, but she didn't want to wear her old clothes tonight.

Bass looks up when she walks back into his living room. She is wearing the shirt he has placed in the bathroom for her, unsure if she would accept it. Something shifts inside of him when he sees her wearing one of his old shirts, her long hair wet and moving around her shoulders.

He flinches when he watches her red eyes. Dammit, he knows she cried in there. A Charlie Matheson who cries is so fucking rare that he stares at her before he tells himself to stop staring. But he can't look away from the depth of her sadness inside of her eyes that are normally filled with so much fire and challenge. And the fact he can read all that from her face, wakes up something protective inside of him. It is not the first time he feels this for her, but just like he has always done, he buries that feeling for her deep inside of him.

She looks unsure about what to do now she is standing in his shirt in the middle of his room and that is something he never thought he would see inside her eyes. Only when he searches for her eyes with his and she allows him close while she looks back at him, she starts crossing the distance between them. She sits down next to him. He grabs the bottle that has been waiting for the both of them from the table before he fills her glass.

She accepts it without looking at him. They don't talk. Hell, he doesn't even know where to start. She drinks from his whiskey, he does the same. He watches how the warmth of the fireplace slowly dries her hair, turning it from a deep gold into a lighter color. Bass lets his drink swirl inside of his glass before he lets the whiskey burn in the back of his throat.

'Miles… is he…' there is a heaviness in his voice that makes her finally look up and meet his eyes.

Charlie knows what he is asking. She understands what Bass needs to know. He needs to know if Miles is all right. She knows that in the middle of all his scars and all his wounds, Miles is still his anchor. It breaks her heart. But she understands it at the same time. Because Miles, he's that anchor for her. And no matter how much it hurts, she knows it will probably always be that way.

She nods. 'Yeah…'

Bass looks at her before he looks away with a deep frown on his face. Talking about Miles connects everything and all of them through time again. It's hard.

'I heard from him a couple of months ago. I was staying in a town for a couple of months and he send a letter back.' She surprises herself by sharing a little bit of her life with him. She is grateful he doesn't start asking questions she is not ready to answer.

Maybe she will tell him everything, but right now she is too tired, she feels too heavy inside and she doesn't know where to start.

He looks at her again with a softer gaze in his eyes while he finishes the last of his whiskey in his glass. 'You can take the bed.' He nods towards his bedroom, and there is a hesitation in his deep voice that catches her attention.

'Thanks…' Her voice has never been this soft and calm when she has talked to him when she answers him. She doesn't look away when he soaks her up with his eyes. Maybe she should argue with him. Maybe she should not want his bed. But right now, she needs the reassuring comfort of a bed.

She finishes her drink and he nods his goodnight before she gets up and walks to a dark, cool bedroom, a soft bed and sheets that smell like him.


End file.
